All thanks to Declan.
I drop my empty luggage by the foot of the bed so I can answer my ringing phone.
“Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”
“I’m sorry? Did you just ask if I’m pregnant?” I slam a fist to my chest twice to help me breathe.
“Yes.”
“Why?!” I double-check my period tracker app despite the fact that I haven’t had sex in months.
“You don’t know.” Mom’s voice cracks.
My knees shake, so I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. “What happened?”
“There are…stories coming out about you.”
“Me?”
“And Declan.”
My stomach drops. “Send them to me.”
She makes a noise. “I think it’s better if you don’t see them.”
Shit. Acid crawls up my throat as I ignore my mother and type my name into the search engine with shaky fingers. The results are horrifying. Each headline somehow seems worse than the last. Buzzwords like fake marriage, baby clause, and gold digger. News articles I can handle, but it’s the comment sections that really sting. After the first one claims I don’t deserve children because of the mockery I made out of marriage, I exit the internet application. If that’s the first one, I can’t imagine how awful the rest are.
My social media profiles are no better, with all of them being clogged with people sending me direct messages. Even a few direct threats.
My stomach churns. “None of this is true.”
Except, isn’t it?
I mute my phone and proceed to scream into the mattress.
Mom remains unaware of my breakdown. “Obviously not. I’ve seen the way you two interact. These soulless people are just looking to ruin anyone so they can sell a few copies.”
I have no idea what my mom thinks she saw but I refuse to argue with her. There are way bigger fish to fry.
“What am I supposed to do?” My voice shakes.
“My poor baby.” Mom’s voice cracks. “I hate that they’re saying these things about you. Them calling you a money-hungry…” Her voice drifts off, as if it pains her to finish that sentence.
Don’t worry, Mom. It hurts me just as much. The amount of women who wrote nasty comments on my social media posts is nothing compared to the ones who privately messaged me their thoughts. I set my accounts to private, but the stain of their words still lingers.
I’m so close to cracking with each shuddery breath I take.
“Don’t let these people get to you.” Mom’s voice stands firm, and it helps ease the smallest fraction of tension from my shoulders.
“It’s a little too late for that,” I grumble.
“They’re nothing but rumors.”
“Except everyone is talking about my marriage, including freaking Finance Today.” I know I’ve officially hit rock bottom when the spreadsheet nerds are out to get me.
“They can say anything they want, but that doesn’t make any of it true.”
Oh, Mom. If only you knew. “But—”
“No buts. These reporters will come up with any kind of story to sell some papers. It’s disgusting that they would come after your marriage like this, but I’m not surprised.”
Me neither when I come to think of it. The timing is almost too perfect, with Declan and me being unable to do anything about it from here.
With each article I read, my anger intensifies. I know exactly who released these stories into the world, hoping for this kind of reaction. Seth Kane is lucky I’m thousands of miles away from him or else I would give him a piece of my mind.
Or fist.
I don’t think anyone could read comments like that about themselves and not feel some kind of emotion toward it. But despite my feelings, I know who I am and what I stand for. Nothing anyone says will change my mind, but it doesn’t mean their words still can’t affect me.
Unlike Declan, I didn’t grow up in this kind of world. I’m not accustomed to having my image plastered all over every celebrity gossip site, picking at everything that makes me who I am. It makes me want to hide away from everyone and everything, but it also makes me want to fight.
“I’m going to fix this.” I hold my chin up.
“How?”
I won’t allow logistics to kill my motivation. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, baby. You can’t change people’s narratives. They are going to think what they want based on the facts they’re presented with, and nothing you do will change that.”
Mom’s words cause a lightbulb to shine above my head—as if it was blessed by God himself.
What if I create a story so enticing, they can’t help but want to change their view? I can control how people perceive us. It might take a bit of work on my end, but it has to be better than the alternative. Because if stories like this continue to pile up, Brady Kane’s lawyer will most likely start questioning the authenticity of everything.
No. There is no way I will allow that to happen. I didn’t go through all the trouble of marrying Declan so his father could ruin everything anyway.
Seth Kane might have won this round, but he has a whole other thing coming if he thinks I’ll let a few news headlines hold me back. While his sons have to remain diplomatic around him for the sake of investors and board members, I have no issues getting dirty.
He put a target on his back, and I can’t wait to pull the trigger.
22
DECLAN
D isconnecting for the remainder of my honeymoon was a mistake. I have never spent an hour without checking my phone, let alone days.
This is what happens when you take a vacation.
During my time off the grid, someone leaked a story to the gossip magazines saying my marriage was staged. I don’t doubt my father was behind this kind of campaign, although it will be difficult to prove it.
I have to give him credit. He was thorough, making sure to include a set of fake documents detailing shit Iris and I never even discussed in our contract. It portrays me as the exact monster the world expects of me.
Headlines about a speculated inheritance. Interviews from soon-to-be ex-employees claiming my relationship with Iris came out of nowhere, all because of a clause from my grandfather about giving birth to an heir. There are even sonogram photos of a child who sure as shit isn’t mine.
I wouldn’t bat an eye at the headlines, but the way they talk about Iris…
Now that is simply unacceptable.
You never cared about their opinions in the past…
That was before I had someone worth protecting from the scum of the earth. Iris isn’t naive. She knows how the media portrays me and what might have happened if she married me. But this… Even I’m horrified at some of the comments.
I tuck my phone in my pocket before I smash it into a million pieces.
“Call my lawyer when we land.”
Iris looks up from her tablet. “What for?”
“I’m in the mood to make people miserable.”
“Can it still be considered a mood if it’s a constant state of being?”
I glare.
She holds her hands up in submission. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m about to slap half of Chicago with a libel lawsuit.”